The North Wind
by A shade of grey91
Summary: One-shot. The North wind could be described as almost like an idea; the very impression of freedom, adventure and careless abandon. No one seems to remember that he is also a father. In more ways than one in some instances. In other ways...not so much. T for some swearing...okay maybe a lot.


_A.N. I suppose this is really out of the blue. Random oneshot that has nothing to do with any of my previous stories ( which I deleted...I know I'm an idiot.) but I've been picking at an idea that popped into my head about the North wind. Ya know, the element that seems to be always around Jack frost and caters to his every whim...and just so happens to be Bigby wolf's father. Anyway this kept picking at me, and even though I'm not a big fan of Rise of the Guardians my muse seems to have other ideas. Also, warning you now, this One-shot is a little clumsily put together, if you have any critiques, I would greatly appreciate it!_

Sheriff Bigby Wolf took a long drag of his cigarette, cherishing the calm sensation of smoke in his chest before letting it out in a tired sigh. Smoke erupted from his nose and mouth, swirling gently in the cool air in front of his apartment. It was currently 4:00 am in the morning. He'd been up all night because a damn fight had broken out over at the trip trap, Gren and Woody were at it again. After a long day, and an even longer night, Bigby allowed himself another sigh of resignation. Ever since Holly and Gren had found out about Woody and Lily's...engagements, things had been tense between them to say the least. Holly barely talked to the man and Gren...did what Gren does best.

Honestly, with the way the two of them went at it tonight there wasn't much of a bar left by the time he had arrived. Not only did he have to go over there and play mediator between two piss drunk badly tempered fables who didn't feel quite like calming down just fucking yet (he was still bruising) he also had to write a report on the amount of damage they had managed to accomplish before Holly took it upon herself to help him save her bar.

Not to mention they seemed to still be a little tense around him. After all you don't just up and forgive the guy who's beaten you up on occasion (with good reason, which is _conveniently_ forgotten) and very possibly ate you on a regular basis in a past life. ( He's not apologizing for that, a wolf's gotta eat too.)

He flicked the cherry off the end of his cigarette, watching the still burning end die on the steps. A small niggling part of his mind wondered when any of this would become easier to deal with; if any of these damn stubborn fables would realize he actually did have a reason to exist beyond making their lives miserable. His actions these past few days should have shown that. With a gruff snort he dropped his cigarette, equally determined to drop the subject from his mind. It couldn't be helped and he was too tired to give a damn right now. The cigarette gave a satisfying sizzle before dying under his shoe and without any more delay he made his way inside.

As usual, Grimble was asleep at the desk. If Bigby was being honest with himself he couldn't remember a time when the guard troll was actually conscious. He ignored the snoring guard, opting to get to his apartment as quickly as possible so he could maybe get more than an hour's sleep. He was glad to remember that he had finally sent Colin home to the farm (as temporary as the pig makes _that_ effort) so his chair wouldn't be occupied when he gets to his apartment room. Looking forward to having the apartment all to himself for the first time in a long time he made his way to his room number and pulled out his keys. His day dreaming of all the peace and quiet he could finally enjoy were abruptly cut off when he entered the room.

Someone was here. He sniffed warily, the scent of the stranger filled the room, though it was diluted by the remains of his smoke. He couldn't identify exactly who it was but it didn't smell familiar and judging from the intensity they'd been here for an hour at least. He looked around his dingy apartment, wary of a possible ambush before stalking in silently. Any normal person would have turned on the lights, but Bigby could see well enough in the dark where most fables couldn't. It would give him an advantage he didn't particularly need but the sooner he beat the shit out of the stupid bastard and chased him out of his apartment the better.

It was colder in the room than he remembered, his sense of smell grew acute in the fresh air and he noted with more certainty that the scent was no one he's ever met. That made sense, no one would be stupid enough to try to rob him if they knew who he was. Though, looking at his apartment he didn't see much reason behind trying to rob someone who lived in a apartment the size of a closet. From the doorway he could see the kitchen so that only left one room that the burglar could be in. He stalked into the living room, his annoyance at another damned event keeping him from blessed sleep grew into hot anger.

and promptly died.

A boy no older than thirteen lay curled up on his chair, his bony frame huddled against it like he was trying to hide in its cushions. It worked pretty effectively too; the cushions practically swallowed him whole. From his position he might have been trying to hide for what ever reason when he was awake but now he slept fitfully, twitching and shifting in his sleep. His hair was mussed up, like someone would constantly ruffle it affectionately and it shined an innocent white in the dim light of the moon almost matching the boy's unearthly pale complexion. The boy shifted again and Bigby finally noticed that the back of the boy's head was caked with dried blood. He was more than likely a fable, judging from his hair and pale glow so he would survive. Probably. Bigby sighed again, digging into his pocket for his cigarettes.

How had the little brat gotten in here? His window was open but he lived on the third floor, if the kid had a concussion how had he managed to climb three stories? And why on earth would he just climb into some random apartment without knowing who lived in it? He had finally gotten out his cigarettes and lit one when one of the answers to his questions hit him in the face. Literally. The gust of wind nearly blew his cigarette out of his mouth with the amount of force used to put it out. He growled, feeling that familiar murderous anger creep up again. _Guess that explains how he got up here._

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The North wind sighed through the room, the noise seeming to come from everywhere.

"Simply watching you, can't a father come pay a visit to his own-"

"No, you can't. What the hell ever made you think you could?!-if you call me _son_ I'm going to rip your throat out."

"...You had already tried several times..." The wind had sounded _a little_ mournful. It only spurred his anger further, he snarled.

"Don't fucking push me, I'm in no mood for you today."

He breathed through his nose, trying to keep his temper in check but it had been a _long_ day.

"...and answer the damn question."

The wind was silent for a while, but he could still feel the presence like some one else was in the room with them. He lashed out when it seemed like they were behind him but he felt nothing but air.

"Stop playing your fucking games and tell me why you're here!"

He gestured to the kid on the couch. "Did you do this?"

He growled when the presence moved around him again, this time circling behind him toward the table. He glared over his shoulder as the trash that littered his apartment skittered across the floor. The crumpled cigarette packs and old receipts bounced over the wooden boards, right over the trail of blood he had made when he was dragged back here, barely alive from his first encounter with Bloody Mary.

That seemed like ages ago, has it really only been a week? The blood hadn't washed out well from the wood, leaving a permanent stain. (It didn't help that he had waited a couple of days before scrubbing it. He had bigger things to deal with at the time.) it almost seemed like the North wind knew what happened that night, trailing an invisible hand over the stains.

"You haven't been taking very good care of yourself."

Bigby sighed, suddenly very tired. He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease back a headache.

"Cut the bullshit. Why did you bring an injured fable into my apartment?"

From the heavy silence in the air Bigby knew the North wind wanted to talk more about what had happened and why there was so much blood staining the floor but he w  
ouldn't; Bigby wasn't going to humour him with an answer and he knew it. Despite the ancient fable's efforts the wolf was not going to let him just waltz into his life and pretend like he suddenly cared about what happened to him and he definitely wasn't going to let the bastard play father. He waited impatiently, a scowl stretching his lips until an answer rippled through the room, like the man was standing right next to him, Bigby's scowl deepened.

"I need your help."

The wolf couldn't help crossing his arms, raising an eyebrow in derision. _"really."_

"I know I haven't been the best father-"

"Thats a fucking understatement."

"-but I need you to trust me-"

"No, no wait. Fuck that. Let me reiterate. You weren't just a shitty father, you _weren't_ a father, all you've ever been was _absent_. Now that you need something you just walk right in here and expect me to _help you?_ "

More words then he was used to putting out, but this was a special occasion, _and it had been a long fucking day_. The wind was silent again but Bigby wasn't done yet. He let all his hatred and contempt drip from his voice as he spat out.

" _What the fuck makes you think I would help you?"_

"Because you're a good person."

"You don't fucking know me.

"Your friends seem to respect you."

That threw him off track, Bigby stared. "You were spying on me?!"

"Simply checking in on my-"

"Don't fucking call me that and no, they don't respect me they _fear_ me. There's a difference."

"A difference you didn't notice tonight."

Bigby glared, electing not to respond. This subject needed to change. Now.

He could practically feel the small smile forming on the invisible fable's face as he spoke.

"If you won't do it for me, you'd do it for him."

The breeze came by and brushed the boy's pale hair, causing him to stir a little and Bigby wondered if his was the hand that had ruffled the boy's hair so affectionately that it remained perpetually mussed up. He growled out.

" _You_. _don't. fucking. know. me."_

The wind was silent, unwilling to argue.

All the venom he felt boiling up behind his words died suddenly, leaving him empty. He was too tired to deal with this shit. The gruff fable pinched the bridge of his nose again, resisting the urge to sigh for the umpteenth time this night and turned toward the table. He pulled a wooden chair out and sat down, exhausted. He noticed the boy had stopped turning in his sleep during their bickering, his too pale face was more relaxed now. He glared at where he last felt the presence and said.

"Okay, knowing you as the self righteous ass that you are. Why would _you_ of all people want me to help him?"

The breeze shifted and he heard it move closer to the boy until it was in front of him. Then silence, the North wind materialized as he stood there, quietly watching him sleep. Normally Bigby would take this chance to lunge at the man and try (for the sixth or seventh time) to kill him, but like he said before, he was fucking exhausted. He settled for narrowing his eyes at the near transparent fable and digging for his lighter that he must have absently put away sometime in their argument. The North wind looked like how any person would expect a cold climate fable to look. An older looking gentleman to mundies maybe in his late forties to early fifties. His hair and mustache were a pale crisp white as well as his skin, he seemed to glow in the moonlight.

He looked exactly the same as all those times Bigby had tried (and failed) to kill him. Though now he seemed to have a softness in his gaze as he watched the sleeping boy that the wolf had never seen on him before. It suddenly hit him how similar they both looked, their hair and skin pallor. He was sure also that if the boy where to open his eyes, they'd be the same icy blue hue as the man in front of him. Their similar pallor wasn't anything unusual, cold climate fables had a tendency to look pale but that combined with the ancient fable's unusually affectionate actions made room for speculation.

He curled his lip in disgust, flicking his lighter open with a soft click. The noise caused the North wind to glance over at him. He then promptly flit away his lighter before he could use it and sent it flying out the window. The wolf sat in shock for a total of five seconds before animalistic rage burned through him and turned his vision red. He got up, his nails growing into curved talons and knowing his eyes were glowing a hazy red he snarled.

"You have a lot of fucking nerve-"

Before he could finish he was thrown back into the chair again, the force holding him to the wood stronger than anything he's ever felt. He struggled regardless, his anger forced to channel into spitting threats and insults as the North wind moved closer. The man waited until he ran out of breath and tired of struggling before speaking, calmly.

"He is special to me, but there is also something...unique about him, I do not know what it is but I do know this. He needs protection."

Bigby glared up that the man, who met his hateful gaze steadily, his face cold and neutral. The wolf knew he was being handled like a child and that only kindled his rage even more. He let it drip from his tone as he spat.

"So you want me to babysit your fucking bastard of a son while you go off and do as you so fucking please!?"

The fable's ice blue eyes widened in surprise. Though whether it was because of the fact that Bigby was right, or that he had found out so quickly, the wolf didn't know. Before he could decide which, and to Bigby's utter outrage the man gave a small smile before asking.

"Are you jealous?"

Bigby tried to put as much contempt into his voice as mentally possible before spitting out.

"Hardly. All I feel is pity for the little brat if he has had to deal with _you_ all his life."

The ancient fable's smile didn't fade like he had hoped, though his eyes looked sorrowful. It caught Bigby off guard, staring into the anguish he saw there. He felt his anger spike and resisted the urge to turn, he hated these moments (rare as they are) when the man looked at him with this brokenhearted affection. It tore him between his bitter resentment and a newfound pity. But the North wind was cunning; he may know already the affect his actions have on him and Bigby wondered if he was simply being manipulated, the North wind was good at that, and Bigby didn't doubt that maybe he had an agenda behind all his little emotions. It would be convenient if his resolute hatred of the man had chipped away to a point where Bigby would begin to care for the bastard, maybe even trust him.

To what actual end he wasn't sure but it didn't make it hurt any less when he thought about it. The fable had managed to make his mother fall in love with him, before promptly abandoning her once he lost interest. The thought that this bastard just so thoughtlessly used his mother and believed Bigby could be emotionally manipulated so easily as well made his blood boil. But he also wasn't sure, he never knew his father beyond his years as a pup and the man's somber expression seemed almost sincere.

The wolf was so caught up in his thoughts he almost missed the fable's reply, the tone and comforting hand on his shoulder subconsciously made him bristle. The fable didn't notice though, he had turned back toward the boy sleeping on the couch.

"He's not my son Bigby, but he _is_ special."

When he turned back he took Bigby by surprise again. The normal neutral expression on his face was gone and he looked down at his estranged son earnestly.

"Please...will you help him?"

The North wind was a king among fables, to put the term mildly. He wasn't elected to be one, he simply was because he was one of the most ancient and powerful beings in their world. With a flick of his hand he could tear down this apartment, this entire city if he wanted to. He had never heard the fable ask for anything and he certainly didn't plead. Bigby was sure the bastard had never used anything but a commanding tone when speaking to others, but now...he was pleading, practically begging. For the safety of some wayward looking waif that Bigby didn't even know the name of.

He should say no, he didn't owe this man anything and the bastard had no right to walk into his life now and just to ask for a fucking favor of all things. But the boy was a fable and as much as he hated to think about it right now it was his job to protect them. Even if the person who brought them to his doorstep was a complete asshole. Not to mention he was only a kid.

He sighed tiredly, before glowering at the man in front of him and growling.

"Let me go."

The force holding him against his chair immediately let up and the North wind slid his hand off Bigby's shoulder, walking back to the window.

Bigby continued on, rubbing his forehead and leaning back in the chair.

"Set up an appointment with the business office and they should be able to find a place for-"

"No. I need him to stay with _you._ At all times if you can help it."

Bigby simply glared, the fable wasn't in the position to be making any demands and he knew it. Turning to catch his withering glower the North wind sighed as he walked back across the room. The wolf instinctively bristled when he came near and the ancient fable raised his hands in a "peace" gesture before explaining.

"He's being...hunted down...by the Nightmare king."

Bigby raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the boy with renewed interest. "What'd he do to deserve _that?_ "

"The monster wanted to join forces with him. He refused, Pitch black didn't take to kindly to his offer being stepped on."

The wolf gave an amused snort, trying to imagine just how cheeky the boy must have sounded throwing an alliance with the Nightmare king himself back in the infamous fable's face _._ Obviously it didn't end well he mused as he looked over the patch of the dried blood on the back of the boy's head. As if he was reading Bigby's mind the old fable pressed on.

"He _needs_ protection. Pitch black will not stop until he finds him, but I would think even the Nightmare king would hesitate before tangling with the Big bad wolf."

The beast in question crossed his arms over his broad chest, fixing the near glowing fable with his glare again before stating matter-of-factly.

"You're not telling me everything."

The fable in front of him gave him a weary look before saying. "I could lavish you with the details but it's a long story. It would probably take the rest of the night to tell you."

Bigby didn't doubt it. He suddenly realized that it must be almost 5:00 am and he still hadn't had any sleep. Not to mention he was getting sick of looking at the man in front of him. Their conversation was starting to turn somewhat civil and not only did that idea sound down right ridiculous, it was beginning to rankle.

"I will be back for him. I just have other...matters to attend to first. One matter being keeping the nightmares off your scent. At the very least, if you would but hide him for a little while. "

"Alright, fine. I'll babysit your brat for a _little_ while."

The North wind's shoulders slumped, his relief even more evident in his voice as he murmured.

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for _you._ Now...go away."

Heedless of Bigby's response he seemed more chipper, as a matter of fact he down right ignored it; his tone suddenly light but cautious. Bigby glowered back, challenging.

"Now if he's going to be living with you for a while I believe some changes may be in order. Maybe a change in scenery would be best."

He looked around the apartment as he said this. A quiet disdain secreting from every fiber of his being as he examined the torn walls and grimy floor. The wolf narrowed his eyes further at him.

"You are the descendant of the four winds of the earth. You should not have to live in these conditions."

Bigby grit his teeth and counted to ten before answering.

"Didn't I just ask for you to leave?"

The North wind didn't reply but his expression assured Bigby that this argument was far from over. The wolf ignored the look and got up from the chair, heading into the kitchen to get a beer. Hoping by the time he got back to the living room the fable would be gone.

He was. Though to Bigby's utter annoyance there was a small intricately woven bag on his chair, no doubt filled with currency. He snatched the bag and tossed it out the window to meet the same fate as his poor lighter before setting his beer on the table. He grabbed the chair and dragged it to sit against the wall opposite of his currently occupied couch. This was as comfortable as he was going to be able to get tonight.

The boy huddled tighter into the couch's folds, as if sensing his friend's absence. The very scent of ice and snow pierced his nose, going straight up to his brain and he didn't hesitate to curse his father yet again for throwing his lighter out the window. The various smells around him grew in intensity until he gave in and began to rummage around his apartment for another lighter. His headache was still making itself known by the time he sat back in his chair, a thick, scent deadening haze of smoke around his head. He regarded the boy in front of him through a curtain of acrid fog, his eyes yellow with annoyance. Before he realized it he had already been staring at the boy for longer than what would be considered normal.

There was supposedly something "special" about him as the bastard had put it but that wasn't what interested Bigby. After a few more solid minutes of contemplation (and more than a few cigarettes later) he realized what it was. The boy had managed to do one thing no one had ever even dreamed of being able to do. Whether he was blood related or not, he had gained the North wind's devotion.

The thought pissed him off more than he liked to admit, for reasons he wasn't very willing to think much about, but the thoughts plagued him. They swam insistently back to the forefront of his mind whenever he tried to think of something else or try to drift off to sleep. He couldn't help remembering his mother's quiet pleas for his father to stay, whispered because she thought him and his siblings asleep and didn't wish for them to hear. Her tone was wearied with a defeat that he hadn't understood at the time, because she had already known nothing she could say would prevent the man from leaving.

What did this little brat have? What abilities did this little waif of a child have that proved more worthy than his own mother's loyalty and love?

The question spawned a rancid emotion that built up in his chest and he swallowed the remainder of his beer to choke the bitterness down. A few bottles later and it finally helped settle the raging inside him, even though he knew he would regret it in the morning he polished off two entire packs. Wonderfully numb, he settled back in his chair, and determined to ignore the unwanted occupant of his only bed he finally tried to get some sleep.

 _Yet another AN: You know what's funny? I can take the flamiest of flaming reviews on this site, but I'm too cowardly to let my brothers read this. They are always saying my work is good ( my drawings at least.) but just the thought of them reading this makes me cringe and want to hide. Terrible right? So whaddaya think? Should I woman up and get the embarrassment over with? Let me know and if I get enough people saying I should stop being a big baby, I'll do it...I won't guarantee not crying about it later though!_


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